Monthly Archives: November 2014

My blog has several horse-related posts so I guess it’s obvious that I’m keen on horses. This is Shower, who is my 2 year old TB X Warmblood type. I rehomed him from a charity last year as a friend for my mare. He’s quite naughty but gets away with it because he’s so cute 🙂

This horse water trough is on the road between Thurston and Innerwick in Scotland. It was paid for by the Hunter family in 1887. It’s heartwarming to see that these people cared about their animals, as demonstrated by the inscription. Be cruel to animals at your peril people !

I bought a book in a local charity shop last week that was published in 1908, called ‘Poems’ by Mary E. Coleridge. I have since discovered that Mary was the great grandniece of the famous poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and she published her poetry either anonymously or under a pseudonym. It was only after her (premature) death that she was finally credited with some wonderful verses.
This is the first poem in the book, and is entitled ‘To Memory.’

“Strange Power, I know not what thou art,
Murderer or mistress of my heart.
I know I’d rather meet the blow
Of my most unrelenting foe
Than live – as I now live – to be
Slain twenty times a day by thee.

Yet, when I would command thee hence,
Thou mockest at the vain pretence,
Murmuring in mine ear a song
Once loved, alas! forgotten long;
And on my brow I feel a kiss
That I would rather die than miss.”

Verses taken from Blake’s letter to Thomas Butts, August 16th, 1803, after being charged with Sedition.

“O why was I born with a different face?
Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
When I look, each one starts; when I speak, I offend;
Then I’m silent and passive, and lose every friend.
Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise,
My person degrade, and my temper chastise;
And the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame;
All my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
I am either too low or too highly priz’d;
When elate I’m envy’d, when meek I’m despised. “